Only To Me
by TenshiNanashi
Summary: onesided JimmyJack, Italics are imagined things, itlatics are imagined talking. Warning: slashy, mentions of death, implied rape of a minor, kinda confused Jimmy.


Not many people touched him. Mr. Hayes had slowly laid strong hands on his shoulders to comfort, quickly gripped his arms or hands to correct his wrong doings, but always made sure that the touches were some what anticipated. The rest of the crew made sure that he knew where their hands were going, casually patting him on the back for good jobs, or leading him in the right direction. Everyone was aware that he had a…thing about touch. 

Touch branded him, made his skin feel odd, because someone had reached over and violated his personal space. He didn't like most touch; the tactile sensations were what he was seeking to escape from when he stowed away on board all those years ago. Touches from strangers that were burned into his body, marking his skin with all the perfumes of deceit. Fingerprints on his neck, shoulders, and hips. Invisible reminders that he could not speak of, reasons for lies and the hiding of what he really felt.

He didn't talk about it much even though there was no reason for him to hide any more. He had explained in broken whispers and teary cries all about that time in his life before he escaped onto the ship. He told the playwright about the pain of being torn into pieces, the feel of alcohol stained lips on his skin, and how it all tattooed marks of possession into his very soul. It took almost dying, the death of his mentor, and a giant ape before he could tell Jack about his dreams and the darkness hidden inside.

Sometimes he finds himself staring at the delicate hands Jack has, wishing they would entrap him with their comfort once again, so he could bury his face into Jack's collarbone and forget the cruel world. He longs desperately for the feeling of being owned completely by someone, hoping upon hope that Ann is finally out of the picture, and feeling absolutely wretched for wishing that the woman had just stayed with her pet ape on Skull Island.

He foolishly remembers that his wish to save her from Kong had been motivated by the desperate need to prove himself, to have Mr. Driscoll's gratitude, because from what he had overheard and seen…Jack loved Ann. If he was the triumphant hero, the slim fingers might ensnare him in their thankful clutch, and he would have what he had frantically sought out since the first time he saw Jack. It should bother him that he didn't get to feel Jack's touch until after Mr. Hayes' death, and is only with the playwright now because the man feels bad that he has no where else to go.  
The offer to stay with Jack had been given upon his refusing to go back on the ship, too many memories of friends lost, and he had accepted even knowing that the offer had been out of pity. It was easy for him to pretend that Jack had wanted him to stay for purely selfish reasons, that Jack didn't just need company while Ann was off mourning the murderous ape, and he knew it was because he had always been incredibly good at deluding himself

His mind knew that Jack and Ann had been in love, it was his jealous heart that cried out that Ann didn't love Jack the same as she had before Kong, his soul that wanted to tear through the restraining chains and claim Jack as the man had done with him (however unknowingly). Living with Jack Driscoll made him almost positive that he would eventually snap and touch the man with the same abandon he had on the island.

"Jimmy?"

He glanced up into dark eyes, taking in the other man with a longing gaze, and waiting for more words to fall from that gorgeous mouth.

"I'm going out…" _"to see Ann."_

Blink. "Sure." _"Don't leave me…"_

Jack fidgeted slightly, _"I'm sorry,"_ "I'll be back late."

"I'll be fine." _"Stay."_

He watched as the man, whose touch had left lines of ownership imprinted deeper into his skin than anyone else, walked out of the room and into the light of love and left him alone in darkness.

_"It's okay. It's okay…"_ A tear slid down his face.

_"Jimmy…"_

_"You came back!"_

_"I will always come back, you belong to me…it's all in the subtext."_

He smiled as his fantasy took a stronger hold on his senses, and hoped it would tide him over until Jack got back from…whatever he was doing with Ann.

_A hand settles on his shoulder and a thumb strokes the side of his neck, "I'm writing a play… I'm writing it for you."_

He shudders, senses awakening, almost able to feel Jack's hand.

_"Why would you do that?"_

_Lips meet his forehead and a hand runs itself through his hair as he is pushed backwards onto the bed._

The sheets are soft and smell of Jack, entangling him further into his waking dream.

_"Why would I write a play for you?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Isn't it obvious?"_

_"Only to me." _He says as his eyes snap open and the fantasy ends.

fin


End file.
